1. "Shades of Gray" by the Monkees (songwriters Barry Mann & Cynthia Weil)
This song was on the Monkees' Headquarters album, released in the summer of 1967. I was turning 12 that summer, and the lyrics of this song caught my attention. After years of mostly listening to all forms of pop -- Motown in particular -- it was weird to hear a song addressing the ambiguities of life, such as are found in this song. And the Monkees were kind of goofy -- or so it seemed. Until this:
When the world and I were young,
Just yesterday.
Life was such a simple game,
A child could play.
It was easy then to tell right from wrong.
Easy then to tell weak from strong.
When a man should stand and fight,
Or just go along.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
Just yesterday.
Life was such a simple game,
A child could play.
It was easy then to tell right from wrong.
Easy then to tell weak from strong.
When a man should stand and fight,
Or just go along.
But today there is no day or night
Today there is no dark or light.
Today there is no black or white,
Only shades of gray.
I like that they share the vocals on this song. Click here if video isn't available below.
2. "For a Dancer" by Jackson Browne (writer and singer)
In December 1974 I purchased the Jackson Browne album Late for the Sky for my boyfriend. Soon afterward, I bought a copy for myself. It remains my favorite JB album; a large part due to this song. At the time, my little brother was struggling with leukemia, of which he would succumb the following April. The lyrics of "For A Dancer" are a message to a person who has died -- someone who would rather be dancing, no matter what life threw at them. The chorus has the most impact:
Just do the steps that you've been shown
By everyone you've ever known
Until the dance becomes your very own
No matter how close to yours
another's steps have grown
In the end there is one dance you'll do alone.
I have seen Jackson Browne live many times in my life and only once did he fail to perform this song. This, along with Herman Hesse's book Siddhartha, helped me understand our purpose in life and got my through the death of my brother. In my better moments I remember the beautiful message of this song:
Don't let the uncertainty turn you around...go out and make a joyful sound.
Here is the album version with lyrics. Click here if video not available below.
3. "On the Way to the Sky" by Neil Diamond (written by Neil Diamond and Carole Bayer Sager)
In early 1982 when I was 26-years-old, my first husband and I came to a decision to divorce. It caused me to rethink my entire life, all decisions I had made, and to project a better future for myself. Neil Diamond released the album with this as the title song, and during my transition I held on to some of the words that felt important. It spoke to me of a future I could design for myself -- something I never knew I could do while growing up.
I'm back on my feet again,
Out on the street again
Looking for love
On the way to the sky
Some people moving up,
And some people standing still
Some hold their hands out,
And some people never will
Later I would meet my future husband, Jim, and this would become one of our songs. I chose this for my six important songs because it served a dual purpose: my transition into a new life, and my transition into a new and permanent relationship. The song begins, "We are two, and the two of us are one." That is the way we have always felt together. This is the only song we played when we renewed our vows in June 2000 just before moving to Florida.
Click here for song if no video.
The first three songs relate to my earliest life -- before age 30. There is a gap now until the next three songs. The first one begins in the summer of 1997, the year I was turning 42. That was the summer I was diagnosed with "possible" ovarian cancer. There were three albums that helped me through that time -- I listened to them on constant rotation: Sara McLachlan's Surfacing, Gabrielle Roth's Initiation, and James Taylor's Hourglass. It was very hard to choose one of the songs, for so many of there were meaningful and healing to me at that time, but I finally settled on one from the Taylor album because of its influence later that fall.
4. Up from Your Life by James Taylor (writer and singer)
From January 1996 until October of 1997, our grandson Jeff lived with us. He was a handful, to say the least, and all of my energies had gone to him. In July of 1997 I had my ovarian cyst surgery (it wasn't cancer) and later that fall it was determined that Jeff would go back to live with his dad. My life had pretty much revolved around him, and after he was gone I found myself suffering depression. I had pretty much quit working to raise him through his teen years, and so I suppose you might call it an "empty nest" syndrome. During that autumn, I spent a lot of time walking in the local woods in Longwood Park -- it was nearly a daily activity, even if raining or snowing. One morning I had spent some time in prayer, but then found myself feeling very negative and down. I got into my car and the first song that played -- before I even left the garage -- was "Up from Your Life." I sat there laughing at myself, for having prayed, but then not totally surrendering my negativity and sadness to God. The song is written to "an unbeliever" -- of which I don't exactly identify. But the lyrics are insightful and motivating, and would continue to help me as my depression stretched into the next year. This is the part of the song I held on to through that time, as I felt a lot of darkness surrounding me and would get so caught up in minutiae:
Even in the middle of your sadness
The everyday madness
The ongoing game
Even when you can't find a reason
Still there is a reason
You don't need to name it
Look on up
Look up from your life
The everyday madness
The ongoing game
Even when you can't find a reason
Still there is a reason
You don't need to name it
Look on up
Look up from your life
5. Signed, Sealed, and Delivered by Stevie Wonder (songwriters Lee Garrett, Lula Mae Hardaway, Stevie Wonder, and Syreeta Wright)
Spring of 2002 was a joyous time for me. I was getting my Associates Degree from Edison College. Jim and I attended a prestigious recognition luncheon for high-performing students (I was graduating with 4.0) in which filet mignon and shrimp were served. And I had won
the Rose Kosches Writing Award for Outstanding Student in Fiction
for the first short story I had written since high school. I was ready
to begin taking classes at Florida Gulf Coast to finish my English
degree. It seemed the culmination of so many things: my health-scare,
raising Jeff, depression, the death of my father, financial upset,
moving 1500 miles away from family, and working full time while taking
classes full time. I had been listening to the soundtrack of You've Got Mail in my car, and this Stevie Wonder song just seemed to tie it all up for me -- my degree, my writing life, my achievements against all odds. My future was "signed, sealed and delivered" and "in my hands" in a way that I found exhilarating. The song itself is so high energy -- it really mirrors how I felt in that magical time. Of course, I can hearken back to good old James here: "Even when you can't find a reason/still there is a reason." That spring I KNEW it in my heart and soul.Video link
6. A Little Bit of Everything by Dawes (written by Taylor Goldsmith)
In November 2012, I went with my friend Iris to the Sanibel Island Writers Conference. At the time I didn't realize how horribly burned out I was from my job, but I could tell that the idea of writing was actually very far away from me. I took notes at various workshops, found inspiration for teaching from a couple of the presenters, relished the opportunity to hear Tim O'Brien speak and meet him personally, and enjoyed spending time with my friend, of course. The biggest surprise, however, was the concert on the first evening. Taylor Goldsmith was there to do a songwriting workshop (I did not attend), and he was also the artist performing that night. I immediately fell in love with his songs -- so much of his songwriting reminds me of Jackson Browne -- and I have been a huge fan of his band Dawes ever since. Taylor is really the artist behind the band.
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| At Sanibel Island Writers Conference with Iris and Cat, a woman we met from Toronto |
After that weekend, I found myself listening to the Dawes album over and over again. "A Little Bit of Everything" is the last song. As my burn-out was revealed to me over the next few months, and I made a decision to actively change my situation, Taylor's song was always in the background. I felt I had given my life 100% completely to teaching and reading other people's words, yet rarely able to write my own. I made a decision to change that, and it has been fruitful. I feel now I have a chance to have "a little bit of everything" -- as I write this blog, learn how to play mandolin, travel with my husband, and participate in a writing circle. I truly relate to these words at the end of his song:
Oh, it's a little bit of everything
It's the matador and the bull
It's the suggested daily dosage
It is the red moon when it's full
All these psychics and these doctors
They're all right and they're all wrong
It's like trying to make out every word
When they should simply hum along
It's not some message written in the dark
Or some truth that no one's seen
It's a little bit of everything
It's the matador and the bull
It's the suggested daily dosage
It is the red moon when it's full
All these psychics and these doctors
They're all right and they're all wrong
It's like trying to make out every word
When they should simply hum along
It's not some message written in the dark
Or some truth that no one's seen
It's a little bit of everything
Watch and enjoy.
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